


Red Hands, Warm Heart

by prototyping



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri Week 2019, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Scene Rewrite, except it's more like a scene expansion, og was fine I just wanted a more satisfying conclusion, plus yknow emotional support aftermath is good, violence is brief but warning just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21819250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: Her bright eyes flickered briefly to his weapon and back to his face. He could see the sweat glistening on her powdered brow, but if anything, her smile relaxed and became more natural. “Right you are,” she replied primly. “Very well… I have an old tale that I would like you to hear, if I may. About something that happened ten years ago…”[Done for the prompt “King of Revenge” for Dimitri Week 2019.]
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 122





	Red Hands, Warm Heart

The glint of sun on steel was like a flare, a blinding beacon for the instant it took for the lance blade to rise and fall as it swung down in a hard, confident arc.

The familiar sounds of soft flesh tearing and the wet splatter of blood on stone should have been lost beneath the din of the battle still raging through the streets, but Dimitri heard them perfectly. Or perhaps he only imagined it, as intimately familiar with them as he was, his mind supplying the satisfaction of experiencing Cornelia’s defeat in full.

A dark, vicious thrill pounded through him like a pulse as he watched her stagger backwards. Her bright dress was as tattered as the pale skin beneath it, already stained with the scarlet seeping from the crater he had opened from her shoulder to her hip. It had taken every bit of his willpower not to run his lance through her heart and be done with it. He was surprised she could still stand.

The tyrannical authority she had enjoyed for five years, the strong magic she’d used to battle him for nearly a minute straight just now－all of that power had been reduced to nothing, found wanting when it truly mattered. She was broken, a corpse teetering on failing legs.

Knowing all that－having _done_ that to her－sent a hot shiver of exhilaration down Dimitri’s spine.

Death suited her so much better than her tawdry beauty.

As twisted with pain as her face was, Cornelia still found the energy to flash him a tight smile.

“Well, so be it,” she panted. Even now, she struggled to maintain her cool composure. “Still, I’ll give you a little gift…”

Dimitri jerked his horse’s reins to bring himself closer, leveling Areadbhar’s bloodstained head with the woman’s nose. “It’s over, Cornelia. If you have any last words, _now is the time._ ”

His voice was rough and unsteady, quivering with the eager bloodlust and mad glee that he hadn’t felt since Gronder. Cornelia was no casualty of war. She deserved to die. It had been a long time coming and now he would give the suffering world the justice of extinguishing her parasitic existence.

Her bright eyes flickered briefly to his weapon and back to his face. He could see the sweat glistening on her powdered brow, but if anything, her smile relaxed and became more natural. “Right you are,” she replied primly. “Very well… I have an old tale that I would like you to hear, if I may. About something that happened ten years ago…”

The corner of her painted mouth quirked as Dimitri’s blood ran cold.

“Something Patricia said,” she mused slowly, “about how she wished to see her _real_ daughter again, no matter who or what she had to sacrifice to do so. And about how I made her wish come true－” She gasped softly as her shoulders twitched with pain. Her hands clutched fistfuls of her dress around her thighs－and yet that infuriating smile stayed as she finished smugly, “At the cost of the king’s head.”

It felt as though his cuirass was shrinking around him, slowly crushing the air from his lungs. The sweat on his skin was suddenly freezing. His thoughts tumbled over one another in a flood of emotions too numerous and hectic to distinguish－and underneath them rose the angry murmur of ghostly voices, riding the rumbling wave of his own cold fury. His head throbbed.

At last Dimitri found his voice, but barely. “The king’s head?” The ice in his veins abruptly thawed as the words echoed loudly in his mind, driving their meaning home. His blood began to boil. “You mean _Duscur_ ,” he hissed. “You _monster_!”

His lance rattled as his shaking fingers tightened. If the shaft hadn’t been reinforced with layers of steel to withstand his family’s strength, it would have snapped in two right then.

The witch was lying. Of _course_ she was.

And yet－

The voices grew louder. Calling. Yelling. Pressing on the backs of his eyes until they burned.

_The truth. The truth. Learn the truth－_

But the truth was that Dimitri’s clearest memory of his stepmother was still the sadness on her face, those wistful gazes out the window, always to the south－

The weight in his chest grew.

“You mean to say that my father…”

His throat was tight. Breathing hurt.

“Everyone－”

His skull pounded as his heart raced with desperate panic, the same as when he’d turned to find Rodrigue shielding him.

“－was killed by _my stepmother?!_ ” The last words were a shattered cry. He didn’t know what his expression was right then－he couldn’t spare the energy to try and control it, not when his voice was already giving him away－but whatever Cornelia saw on his face, she was pleased with it.

“That’s right,” she purred, even as scarlet crept over her lips and her chest heaved faster. “Her family meant everything to her… You certainly know that feeling, do you not?” Her tone was a mockery of sympathy. Still stunned, Dimitri said nothing.

“Ah, poor little prince,” she cooed with a hard sneer. “Unloved by the only mother he ever knew… How _pitiful._ ”

The voices were screaming. Dimitri could barely hear his guttural roar－“ _How dare you_!”－and yet her velvet-soft laugh was as clear as a bell and as grating as stone in his ears. It ended in another sharp, trembling gasp.

“There’s nothing left for you now,” she breathed. She dropped to her knees at last, having put all she had left into tormenting him one final time, but she kept her head high to watch his face to the very end. Her smile slowly faded. “Nothing,” she whispered weakly, “but despair—”

The word was still on her lips when his lance blurred. It was a reflex motion, his rage and distress finally breaking through his shock to hastily, messily lash out. The flat edge of the blade struck the side of her face, but with the force of ten men rather than one. Her bone and flesh offered as much resistance as a twig snapping: Dimitri blinked and Cornelia’s head was gone from her shoulders.

Her body collapsed like a puppet cut free of its strings. Blood gushed rapidly from her open neck onto the ground, running along the rivets between the stones before slowing to a gurgling bubble.

The voices gradually quieted back into whispers, but the tightness in Dimitri’s chest stayed. The twisted joy he’d felt just moments ago had been sucked out of him like a dying breath. Even his fury abandoned him, settling deep in his heart where it still hurt but provided none of the motivation that it previously had. Other than that dim throbbing, he felt numb.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on his steed, gaze fixed unseeing on the mutilated corpse. He was vaguely aware of the calls of his soldiers echoing up through the streets, announcing each platoon’s victory－and of the lone figure who approached him.

He didn’t know how long the professor had been there or how much she had seen. When she came to stand beside him without a word or sparing Cornelia’s body a glance, he could wager a guess.

Dimitri spoke without looking at her.

“I’ll take two groups into the castle,” he said gruffly, “to clear out any who still resist. Find Gilbert and help him organize the rest of the forces into a sweep of the town. Please,” he added, to offset what had otherwise been an order.

If Byleth had any thoughts, she kept them to herself. “I’ll see you soon.”

He nodded stiffly, recognizing the remark for what it was. “I’ll be careful. You do the same.”

* * *

She found him again a couple hours later. Dimitri heard her footsteps, but didn’t immediately raise his head from where he sat at the bottom of the large carpeted staircase. He waited until her shadow nearly touched his boots before reacting.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that earlier. Again.” He looked up and met Byleth’s gaze. There was nothing judgmental in her face, but then, there wasn’t much at all. While her eyes were soft, she otherwise hadn’t lost her ability to achieve a totally neutral expression. “I don’t expect to ever be rid of that side of myself－not completely.” He shook his head with a troubled frown. “But it would seem my self-control is no better than it was.”

Silently, Byleth joined him on the step and sat down on his right. Dimitri wasn’t sure if her habit of positioning herself in his blind spot was coincidence or not, but he appreciated it. It was reassuring, and reassurance was something he found hard to come by these days.

Despite her insistence that he face his subjects, she and Gustave had given him time to collect himself first. In the meantime messengers were racing through the city and the small towns beyond the walls, spreading the news of Dimitri’s return and gathering the masses.

Crowds and public appearances had rarely unnerved him as a young man, but now the thought terrified him. He was a king who had forsaken his country and continued to walk a thinning line between man and beast. Who was he to place himself before the people and claim to be anything to them?

“Give yourself time, Dimitri. No one improves overnight.”

“I’ve had more than a night,” he muttered darkly. He felt her eyes on him.

“Do you believe what Cornelia said?” she asked without pretense.

He turned to look at her, the impulsive _No_ catching in his throat at the last second as he checked his temper. He closed his mouth again and instead exhaled heavily, slowly, as he played those words over in his head for the thousandth time.

“...I don’t know,” he admitted. “It goes without saying that I don’t want to. But neither can I completely discredit her claim.”

“And yet, just a little while ago, you killed her for saying it. That sounds like improvement to me.”

Dimitri stared at her in open surprise. Byleth met the look coolly, almost expectantly, as if challenging him to argue.

After a long moment, his expression softened and he huffed lightly through his nose. Not a laugh, but close enough. “I didn’t think ‘professor’ was a lifelong commitment, but at this rate, I imagine you’ll be teaching me things for as long as we know each other.”

She hugged her knees and leaned forward. “I suppose I do lay it on thick sometimes, huh?”

“No, not at all. I was just thinking that…” He fell silent for a moment, organizing his thoughts. “...That I would be very fortunate indeed, if I always had you to point me in the right direction from now on.”

Byleth also paused. “Do you think you’ll need me to?”

“I suppose that depends on how well I improve,” he answered slowly. “But even if I had no doubts about my qualifications as king… I wouldn’t say it’s a matter of need.”

As tempted as he was to say more, he stopped himself there. This wasn’t the time to delve into what he wanted—or deserved.

Dimitri heaved a low sigh and idly examined the corridor around them. It was all so intimately familiar, and yet being here again felt surreal.

“To be perfectly honest, Professor… I can’t remember the last time I felt so afraid.” He stared down at his hands with a grim smile, clenching his fists weakly and relaxing them again. Were his gloves not black, he wondered how deep their red stains would be by now. “Cowardly, is it not? I know I deserve the ire of my people. Bearing that weight is my responsibility as well as my atonement. And yet…”

He didn’t see her reach over until her hand was already in his. She squeezed his limp fingers gently.

“Fear isn’t cowardly, Dimitri.” Her tone was the same as her grip: solid and sure, but tender and sympathetic. “You say you’re scared, but you’re still determined to go through with it. A coward wouldn’t be here.”

“ _Your_ strength is the reason for that. On my own, I…”

“It doesn’t matter what you might have done alone.”

Dimitri turned to find her gaze sharp and her lips pressed into a firm line. Not an unkind look, but a determined one. “You’re here now,” she went on. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to. If your friends are your inspiration for taking action, I don’t see anything wrong with that. Besides...” Byleth smiled and suddenly the weight on his shoulders felt lighter. “Didn’t we just agree that you’re improving?”

Before he could answer—or, more likely, simply stare at her again in silence—she straightened in her seat and looked forward again, as though there was nothing else to be said. Perhaps there wasn’t.

She left her hand where it was, nestled comfortably in his. Her soothing warmth was a nearly scorching heat now, burning through his haze of heavy thoughts and muddled emotions along with her words.

Dimitri’s hold on her tightened in return, careful but solid. Not for the first time, she was the anchor keeping him in place—now amid his storm of uncertainty and anxiety.

Silence settled between them and filled the hall. Footsteps and distant voices gave life to the castle on the floors above and below, but for the moment this bit of time was just theirs.

There were many things Dimitri could have said, but for now he settled on one.

“Professor.” His voice sounded small and childlike, even to himself. “When the time comes… will you accompany me?”

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he let it out at her answer.

“Of course.”

A little more of that weight melted away from him.

_I haven’t been the savior they deserved… but perhaps I can still aim to be. Even when I fall short, I know who will be there to help me up again._

Together they waited in the comfortable silence. At some point their grips shifted so that their fingers were interlaced, but otherwise they were still.

By the time Gustave found them, Dimitri was no longer dreading his message.

“It is time, Your Highness.”


End file.
